


Stronger Than Blood

by MaraMcGregor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark-ish Stiles, Family Feels, Feelings of Abandonment, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, McCall Family Feels, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Stilinski Family Feels, Talk of Deportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraMcGregor/pseuds/MaraMcGregor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott must survive his mother's family coming in to town. The last time he saw them, he was 5 years old. Or so he thought. The Calaveras have no intention of allowing an Alpha werewolf go free. The Stilinskis and the McCalls must prove that chosen family is more important than blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stronger Than Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the property of Jeff Davis and MTV.
> 
> This was written for the 2015 Sciles Mini Bang, which is the first time I have ever participated in any type of Big Bang festival.
> 
> I am so thankful for the lovely artwork that Breanne made for this piece. She really did an amazing job and I couldn't be happier. You can find her on Tumblr at: queen-of-the-awesome.tumblr.com

 

Melissa stood in the kitchen and spoke to the ceiling, “Scott, can you please run the vacuum through the house?”

Scott closed his laptop and bounced down the stairs. Glancing into the kitchen, he spotted his mother glaring at the oven like it had committed some grievous sin. “Mom?”

“Scott, please. Maybe you could put a little supernatural speed into it and get done in enough time to set up the guest bedroom.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, confusion etched into his face. “Are we expecting company?”

Melissa flicked her wrist, causing the dish towel to snap in the air. “Your abuela called. She’s dropping by for a couple of days. She said she’s bringing my older half-brother and some cousins. Thankfully, the cousins are staying in a hotel. Mama and your uncle will be staying here.”

“Have I met them?”

“A couple of times. You were little, though. They didn’t hang around long after you were diagnosed with severe asthma.”

Scott pursed his lips. He could hear the underlying aggravation in her tone, even without his enhanced senses. With several light steps, he approached his mother and wrapped strong arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “It’s only for a couple of days, right? I can be normal for a couple days.”

Melissa closed her eyes. Rubbing soothing circles into his back, she spoke, “Sweetheart, don’t change for them. Anything that happens, we’ll explain away. This is your home. You shouldn’t be afraid in your own house.”

Scott tilted his head down and nuzzled his nose into her neck. The strong scent of ethanol and bleach seeped through her sandalwood soap, creating a fragrance that resonated in the back of his mind as Mom and Pack. Thin, yet strong, fingers threaded through his hair and scratched at his scalp. A low rumble reverberated through his chest.

Laughter broke the moment. Melissa patted him on the arm, voice wavering with humor, “Alright, you oversized mutt, vacuum, then make the bed in the guestroom.”

Scott grinned and bounded to the hall closet, quickly pulling out the vacuum and starting on the living room.

* * *

Several hours later, the house was clean, bed made and spare sheets set out for the couch. Chicken empanadas sat in the oven, staying warm. Scott’s shoulders tensed as he heard two SUVs pull into their driveway. Tilting his head, he focused on the sounds of doors slamming and feet treading heavily on the pavement. He counted five total sets. He reached across the table and gave his mom’s hands a quick squeeze before standing up, ready to open the door to relatives he couldn’t even remember.

The doorbell chimed. Scott took two steps towards the front door and hesitated. He felt his wolf’s hackles raise in warning.

Melissa stepped around her son and reached for the handle. Scott’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her forearm. Turning to face her son with concerned eyes, Melissa uneasily asked, “Honey? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

The doorbell chimed again, notes held longer as the finger pressed to the button lingered in impatience.

Melissa raised her hands, placatingly. “I’m going to check through the sidelight, make sure it’s them.”

Scott released her arm. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to defend them both if need be. As Melissa sighed in relief and went to open the door, Scott felt foolish for overreacting. Internally, he chided himself for allowing the horrors of the past color the present.

“Mama! It’s so good to see you after all this time!”

“Ay! Mija, you are a sight for sore eyes!”

That voice caused an instantaneous reaction in Scott. Quickly, he backed away and towards the stairs. His eyes widened in abject horror as he recognized the group standing on the porch: Araya Calavera and her family of hunters.

“Mom -” Scott’s voice trailed off.

Araya stepped around Melissa and fully into the foyer. “Lobito, how long has it been? A couple of months?”

“Chris said you had a treaty. He helps capture Kate and you leave us alone.”

Araya reached out and patted his cheek. “We have held to our bargain. But, La Loba has been taken care of. And the Code remains the same. It’s time we got around to cleaning up our own family’s messes.” Turning back to face her horrified daughter, Araya grinned. “I smell chicken empanadas. I’m sure the boys are hungry after that long drive.”

Scott gripped the banister until he felt the wood creak and start to splinter beneath his hand. He watched helplessly as the hunters traipsed through his house and into the kitchen.

His mother’s eyes met his in shared terror. Gently, she closed the door, but left it unlocked. She had a feeling neither of them wanted to be locked into a house with five hunters. Melissa followed her family into the kitchen, deliberately keeping her body between them and her son.

* * *

Scott tossed and turned in his bed. The door was closed and locked and even though he could see perfectly well in the dark, he had left his bathroom light on. But, his mind was working in overdrive.

He couldn’t deal with the knowledge that there was a hunter in the guestroom down the hall and another camped out on the couch effectively guarding the door. Araya’s words from dinner echoed through his skull. He knew exactly what she meant about sticking to the Code. He just couldn’t figure out why she would decide to turn up at his door now. Chris had successfully fulfilled his deal with the Calaveras by tracking and eventually killing Kate. They should be giving the Beacon Hills’ Pack a wide berth. It was too confusing and maddening to deal with at 3 in the morning.

Scott debated the usefulness of his locked bedroom door. If they wanted to come in and kill him, a flimsy door lock would be nothing. Pulling on his boots, Scott crossed to his window by the tree and opened it. He was crashing with Stiles’ tonight and maybe every night until the Calaveras were gone from Beacon Hills.

He landed lightly on his feet and let his eyes bleed red. Quickly, he scanned the yard for body heat and made toward his motorcycle. As quietly as possible, he rolled his bike down the street and away from the house before kickstarting it, hoping to avoid waking up Severo and Araya. Scott let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding once he got several miles from home. He kept his attention on the road in case the other hunters were not at the hotel and actually waiting to pounce on him the moment he left.

Pulling in to the Sheriff’s driveway, Scott could feel his nerves start to recede. The hunters wouldn’t be crazy enough to attack him here. Silently, he leapt to the roof and crossed to Stiles’ room. He rapped on the glass twice and slid the window open. Just as he finished closing and locking it, Stiles groggily looked up at him from his pillow.

“Dude, what time is it?”

“Can a crash here for a couple days?”

Stiles’ brow crinkled as he took in Scott’s posture. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Scott closed his mouth when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. The Sheriff peered into the room, dressed in his white undershirt and flannel bottoms.

“Oh God, do I want to know?”

Scott forced a small smile on to his lips. “It’s nothing. I was just wondering if I could camp out here for a couple of days.”

The Sheriff pushed the door fully open and stared in concern at Scott, “Is something wrong with your mom?”

Trying to look a little brighter, Scott waved off the question. “She’s fine. She actually has the weekend off.”

Stiles and the Sheriff both look even more concerned at that pronouncement.

Scott realized his mistake and grimaced. “We just have some family staying with us for awhile and it’s really uncomfortable there right now.”

Stiles fully sat up in bed and scrubbed his hands over his face rapidly. “Okay, dude. There is clearly more to this. It’s … 3am, you snuck into my room when you have a key to the front door, and you look like a dejected puppy. I was also under the impression that you didn’t have any family left outside of your mom and Agent douchebag.”

Scott ducked his head and mumbled, “So was I.”

The Sheriff sighed and stepped fully into Stiles’ room. “Why don’t you take a seat, son, and actually tell us what the problem is?”

Stiles scooted up towards the headboard, giving Scott enough room to sit down next to him. His dad pulled out the computer chair and sunk into the leather seat.

Scott picked at the skin underneath his fingernails, nerves starting to twist his stomach into knots again. “It’s my mom’s family. Her mom, her half-brother and three cousins.” He paused briefly to wrap his arms tightly around his torso. “Araya Calavera is my grandmother.”

Stiles flailed, jerking away from Scott enough to twist and face him directly. “What?! Dude, when did that happen? Holy shit!”

“Who is this again?”

“The Mexican hunter who tortured Scott just to test out ‘what type of Alpha’ he is.” Stiles spared an annoyed glance at his father.

“Wait, your own grandmother tortured you?”

Scott tilted his head down, shoulders hunched up. “She knew who I was to her the whole time.” His breath hitched and he bit his lips as they started to tremble.

Stiles wrapped an arm around him, trying to offer as much support as he could.

The Sheriff slowly approached the two boys and knelt before Scott. “Did you know who she was?”

Scott shook his head. “The last time I saw her I was four, maybe five. Apparently, she had come to see if I was hunter material and was heavily disappointed with my severe asthma. She and the rest of the family disapproved of my mom’s choice of work, her marriage, and me.” Tears started to drip from Scott’s eyes, gently rolling down his cheeks. “It’s all I’ve ever been - a disappointment.”

The Sheriff attempted to cut off Scott’s train of thought. He laid a hand on his knee and opened his mouth, but Scott continued speaking, unaware of anyone else around him.

“You know what the Code says. If a hunter is ever bitten, they have to kill themselves. That goes for their families too. They don’t expect them to take care of it themselves, but they do handle it within the family. That’s why they’re here. They don’t want a werewolf in the family. They’ve come to make sure I don’t continue to destroy their reputation.”

Stiles leaned in, pressing his body as tightly to Scott’s side as possible. “Didn’t Mr. Argent take care of that with the deal, though? They can’t touch you.”

Scott shook his head. “I don’t think it matters when it comes to the Code.”

“So, what? She just figured she’d torture you for the hell of it in Mexico and get around to it later?”

Scott’s breath shuddered. “My own family wants me dead. I wasn’t enough when I was human and now all they see is some mangy animal that needs to be put down.”

“Ah, kid.” The Sheriff moved and sat on the other side of Scott. With two strong arms, he pulled him into his embrace and held him tightly.

Sobs started to wrack Scott’s body. All the years of feeling abandoned and worthless came pouring out. “Why can’t I just be what people want? Why can’t I be normal?”

Stiles clambered over and pressed himself along Scott’s back, sandwiching him between the two Stilinskis. “Dude, you’re the best friend I could ever have. I wouldn’t change anything about you for the world.”

“Scott, you are the most caring individual I have ever met. You have way too many responsibilities for a 17 year old. I don’t know how you manage to keep this town from falling completely apart from all of the crazy shit that goes on. People get stuck with shitty family all the time. You just happen to have some really bad luck.”

Scott leaned in to the Sheriff’s chest and gripped his shirt tightly. Stiles moved with him, keeping his body pressed firmly against Scott’s back. The Sheriff’s solid presence broke the last of Scott’s willpower. His body shook as powerful sobs escaped him, tears coursing down his cheeks.

The Sheriff held Scott, rubbing his back until he had calmed down and his breathing started to even out. “You stay here as long as you need. I’ll call your mom in the morning so that she doesn’t worry. Let’s get you a sleeping bag and pillow.”

Stiles stopped his dad before he fully let go from Scott. “Don’t worry about it. We can share the bed.”

The Sheriff glanced between the two boys, “You sure? I can get the sleeping bag from the attic. It’s not a problem.”

Stiles gave him a small smile. “I’ll feel better knowing he’s safe. And I’m pretty sure he’ll feel better being in contact with pack.”

Scott blushed at the mention of his inner wolf’s needs. He would be fine on the floor, but Stiles was right. The closeness of pack would help him sleep and make him feel more protected. Looking up at the Sheriff, Scott nodded.

Resting a hand on Scott’s shoulder, the Sheriff reassured him, “If that’s a thing, that’s a thing. I don’t care either way. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so feel free to sleep in. I’ll make that phone call before I head to work.” With that, the Sheriff shuffled out of Stiles’ room, deliberately leaving the door open part way to make sure that he could hear if something was wrong.

Stiles tugged Scott down and curled protectively around him. He hadn’t been the tough one in this relationship in a while, but they fell into their roles as if Scott’s dad had just left the day before and they were still 12 and entirely human. Stiles rested his chin on Scott’s shoulder and arms wrapped around his chest until he felt Scott’s breathing even out as he drifted off to sleep.

Stiles relaxed his grip and buried his face into Scott’s back. He had to find a way to get Scott’s evil grandmother out of town. He let his mind wander and carefully opened the box of tricks the Nogitsune left behind. He would do anything for Scott, even delve into the darkest part of himself to protect him. The best way to get rid of her permanently - besides killing her - would be legally. He wasn’t sure they could make anything stick, but surely some blackmail and evidence in the right hands would go a long way. As a plan began to form, he knew he would need to bring his dad in on it, as much as he hated it.

* * *

The Sheriff was up hours before the boys. In all honesty, he hadn’t truly been able to fall back to sleep after Scott had arrived. He was sure that he had dozed off at some point. But, every gust of wind had him waking up and reaching for his pistol, ready to ward of any crazy hunter that decided to show up at his doorstep. At 5 am, he had finally given up. Checking on the boys one last time, he assured himself that they were as safe as they could be. He went downstairs and sat in the kitchen, pistol beside him on the table and a pot of coffee brewing.

He made it to 7 before calling Parrish and filling him in on the basics. Parrish promised to do a full background check on Araya Calavera and to cross reference Araya Delgado. Checking the time again, he figured Melissa would be awake by now and potentially starting to worry about the lack of a werewolf son in her house.

Her cellphone rang once. She answered, slightly raspy and worry starting to color her tone, “Sheriff! Is something wrong?”

“No. Well, no more than usual. But, I’m sure you’re more aware of that than I am. Scott’s here. He showed up around 3am and spent the night.”

He heard her let out a loud breath. “Thank God. Would you mind -”

“I’ve already told him he can stay here as long as he likes.”

“Okay. Good. I have to make breakfast. I’ll try to keep them at the house for as much of the day as possible.”

The Sheriff rubbed his face and glared into his coffee cup. “I’ll have Scott with me. He’ll either be here or at the station. I won’t let him anywhere without an armed guard. More armed than fangs and claws, at least. If you can’t keep them at the house, come by the station. We’ll need to work together to figure out how to get your family out of Beacon Hills sooner rather than later.”

“Ay dios mio. I thought I had gotten past being surprised by family members with the whole werewolf thing. I never dreamed I would have to protect my son from my mother, brother and cousins.”

“Parrish is working on it, now. I gave him a brief rundown of the situation. So, he knows how important it is. I’m sure they won’t be interested in coming here or to the station. Scott will be safe. I promise you, Melissa.”

“Thank you.” Melissa paused. “Tell him I love him.”

“You got it. Call me when you are heading over.”

* * *

Hours later, Scott paced in the Sheriff’s office. He was terrified his mom would be restrained by their family and not able to meet him. He glance up at the clock and twisted his fingers into his hoodie as the minutes passed without a sign.

“She’ll be here.” The sheriff tried to be reassuring. He knew how much anxiety this situation was causing the young man. He couldn’t help but be worried for the both of them as well. Melissa was still hosting hunters in her house and Scott was slowly unraveling from years of pent up feelings of inadequacy.

Scott nodded and took a deep breath. He swiveled his head to the door when he heard her car pull up into the parking lot. He felt the tension leave his body as his mom opened the second set of doors and jogged into the station, purse banging against her side. He forced himself to wait until she entered the Sheriff’s office before throwing himself into her open arms.

Melissa carded her fingers through his hair and held him tightly to her body. “You scared me when you weren’t in your room in the morning. I thought they had done something to you when I finally managed to fall asleep.”

Scott mumbled into her neck, “I’m sorry, mom. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay there with them in the house. I was afraid if I woke you that they would know that I was leaving and stop me.”

“Oh, honey. It’s okay. I don’t blame you. I’m just happy you’re safe.” Melissa grabbed Scott’s shoulders and pushed him back far enough to see his face. Gently, she glided her thumbs across his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had escaped. “Now, you said you had questions?”

The sheriff cleared his throat and waved at the couch. He brought his chair over to face the McCalls and pulled out a pad of paper and pen. “We’re going to need as many details as you can provide about your family. There has to be something we can use to get them out of town and hopefully out of the country.”

Melissa nodded. Glancing at Scott, she intertwined their fingers and began. “My mother met my father while she was visiting LA. I guess we know what she was doing in LA, now. She got married and they moved up to San Francisco. My brother was 7 and I was 5 when they got a divorce and she moved back to Mexico. I never understood why she left. Or why she took my brother, and left me behind.”

The Sheriff flipped through several documents on his desk. “Do you know if she ever applied for permanent residency while she was married to your father?”

Melissa tightened her grip on Scott’s hand, “No. I have no idea. I saw her every Christmas. My dad only took me took Mexico once to see her.”

“But after she divorced, she moved back to Mexico and never stayed in this country for an extended period of time?”

She nodded again, lips pursed, not sure if any of this would be helpful in keeping Scott safe.

The Sheriff pulled out several documents, each thicker than the last. “I’m not really good at some of this legal mumbo jumbo. But, even if they are here legally, we should be able to get some of them permanently deported if they are guilty of a felony. I doubt we can do much if it’s just a misdemeanor, though. Seeing as they don’t tend to spend very long in the country, they’ve never applied for Visas. So, that should give us some more wiggle room. Your brother is going to be the hardest to deal with. He was born here and has dual citizenship. Your cousins will be the easiest.”

Scott sighed and leaned into his mother. He knew that Severo would have no problems finishing whatever job Araya needed, with or without backup. He was also aware that he would hesitate in fighting his uncle, not wanting to hurt his mother, where his uncle would have no reservations about following orders.

Hours ticked by as the Sheriff went over various documents with Melissa, punctuated every so often with Deputy Parrish bringing in another folder or piece of intel about the Calaveras. Scott let it all drone on around him. Stiles was clearly in his element, tacking things to the pegboard and cross referencing state and federal deportation laws. Scott was thankful that they were all part of his pack, each working seamlessly together to fight this new threat and all focused on accomplishing the task with minimal bloodshed.

Melissa eventually stood. “I’d better go. I have two hours until dinner. It’s probably best if I don’t give them a reason to suspect anything.” She pulled Scott into a tight hug and whispered into his ear, “Be safe. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Scott leaned back and protested, “Mom!”

“Don’t you ‘Mom’ me! I know exactly what goes on in that head of yours. And what doesn’t! Stay with the Sheriff until we have a more concrete plan. Understood?”

Blushing, Scott nodded.

“Good.” Melissa placed a light kiss on his forehead and strode out to her car.

* * *

Scott parked his bike outside the back door to the clinic. He wasn’t technically supposed to be there, but he needed to get out of the Stilinski’s house for awhile and it was the only other place he could think of going besides his hunter infested house. He hoped Deaton would have some advice, some idea on how to convince the Calaveras to leave and never come back, preferably without bloodshed. His stomach felt leaden. Somehow, he doubted there would be a lack of bloodshed. The Calaveras were too well known for following the Code as if it was their own personal religion.

Emotionally exhausted, Scott rubbed his face, then let himself in to the clinic. “Hey, Doc! I know I’m early, but I was hoping -”

Scott stopped when he got to the closed gate and looked up. Deaton was tied down to a chair and unconscious, bleeding from his head.

“Ah, Lobito. You’re early. We were just getting ready for you.” Araya stepped around the corner, hands behind her back. The door to the clinic opened at the same time the door to the cat room opened. Scott dodged the first the first tranquilizer dart, but not the second. He struggled to remain upright. His knees buckled and collapsed under him. Still trying to escape his cousins, he managed to crawl several more feet towards the door before he blacked out.

Scott groaned. He had a chemical taste in the back of his mouth and the room spun in drunk, lazy circles. He wasn’t sure if he should be thankful that the room was dark, or worried. When he tried to lift his hand to his face, he felt the distinct resistance of chains. Worried, definitely worried.

“Waking up, sobrino?”

Scott blinked and searched out Severo’s voice. He was sitting in a chair with the controls to the electric torture device on the small hotel table. Scott wanted to cry in frustration.

Voice scratchy, Scott asked, “Going to torture me before killing me?”

“No. Just need to make sure you don’t get any ideas of escaping. We recalibrated it since the last time we used it on you. Strengthened the cuffs too. Certain voltages are supposed to remove your strength and your ability to shift. Guess that’s a little different for an alpha.”

“Why didn’t you just kill me at the clinic?”

“There’s protocol to follow. We need to prove that we honor the Code. When we let you leave Mexico with Derek Hale, we allowed sentimentality to win over our rules. We need to bring in witnesses to observe and ensure we are following what the Code demands. You will die. But, it will be clean as long as you don’t try to escape.”

Scott couldn’t find the strength to struggle. Whatever had been in that tranquilizer it was still affecting him. He assumed they had increased the dose of whatever they would normally use on werewolves. Closing his eyes, he leaned back into the chair, pretending to give in. Cautiously, he curled the hand furthest from Severo and let his claws extend into the palm of his hand. He could only hope that it might encourage his body to increase its healing and push the drug out of his system faster.

* * *

Stiles paced in his room. He really wasn’t a fan of Scott going to work. He knew Scott had been getting anxious and needed to get out and do something constructive. But, the clinic had been breached before by werewolves and hunters alike. There was no guarantee that the Calaveras wouldn’t show up there in hopes that Scott would be visiting his emissary. Stiles stared at his phone again. He had already sent several texts and hadn’t gotten a response. To be fair, it had only been fifteen minutes.

He sat down in his computer chair and reclined, feet tapping against the floor. Glancing back at the clock on the bottom of his computer screen, the minute ticked over. He tried to remind himself that Scott was driving a motorcycle with a helmet on. There was no legitimate way for him to answer until he got to the clinic - which he should have arrived at two minutes ago.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Picking up the phone he decided to try the office line. A quick Google search turned up the hours and phone number of the clinic’s direct line. Four rings later, the voicemail came on, “If this in an emergency, please contact the emergency animal hospital at 707-555-3900. Otherwise, please leave a message and we will return your call during regular business hours. Thank you.”

Stiles threw the phone onto the bed. Gnawing on his thumbnail, he paced the room one more time before grabbing his keys, phone and wallet and heading for the door. In his rush to get to Scott, Stiles ran directly into his father.

"Where are you going?”

“Something’s not right. Scott’s not answering his phone and the clinic’s phone went to voicemail.”

“Wait. He’s not here with you?”

Stiles huffed, “He needed some air and went to work. Not the point. He’s not answering his phone.”

The Sheriff reined in his temper and his rant about thoughtless teenaged boys. “Alright. Let me grab my jacket.”

The ride to the animal clinic was silent and tense. Stiles only felt mildly better when he saw both Deaton’s car and Scott’s bike in the parking lot. That was feeling was eradicated when they entered and found Deaton tied to a chair and struggling to free himself.

“Alan!” The Sheriff rushed to the vet’s side and pulled out his knife, cutting away the ropes.

Stiles checked the exam room and the kennels, hoping to find any sign of Scott. As Deaton stood up, Stiles demanded, “Where’s Scott?!”

“I don’t know. The Calaveras showed up. There were too many of them for me to handle alone. One hit me on my head and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in here tied to the chair.”

The Sheriff passed a package of gauze pads to Deaton. “Any idea where they might have taken him?”

Deaton shook his head. “It can’t be too far. They won’t want to risk losing their opportunity to correct their mistake.”

“How long do you think we have?” Stiles asked, voice shaking.

Deaton glanced up at the clock. “That depends. If they still need to find witnesses, you’ll have a bit more time.”

The Sheriff furrowed his brow. “Witnesses?”

Cringing, Deaton explained. “They failed to follow through with the Code when they should have. Their reputation is damaged amongst other hunting families. They will need to bring in an impartial witness from a separate, unallied family to witness them killing Scott in accordance with the Code.”

The Sheriff pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the precinct. “Parrish. I need you to check all traffic cams for two black SUVs with Mexican plates. Put out an APB on those tags if you get a hit. They are wanted for the assault and kidnapping of a minor.”

“I’ve been keeping tabs on any movements of their vehicles since we started the background searches, sir. Last known location was the intersection of State Route 128 and Tubbs Lane. I got a ping off the video from an ATM.”

“When I retire, you are going to make a very fine Sheriff.” Stilinski hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He wrapped an arm around his son, and escorted him to the car. “They have a thirty minute head start on us. Let’s hope they didn’t have their witnesses waiting for them.”

Stiles yanked on his seat belt and strapped himself in. “Any idea where they’re going?”

“There’s a secluded hotel in the mountains in that area. The only thing around for miles are wineries. If I was going to kidnap someone, torture them, kill them and dump the body - that’s a good place to start.”

The drive was tense as they ascended through the winding mountain roads. As they turned up Tubbs Lane, Stiles started drumming his fingers on the door and tapping his shoes against the dash. “Are we calling for backup? Or just taking on an unknown number of hunters on our own?”

“We’re going to see if this is the right place or not first. If we called out the whole force to this mountain, and they aren’t here, we’d lose any chance of getting to Scott if this isn’t the right place.”

“And if it is the right place and they are busying cutting Scott in half?!”

The Sheriff frowned and gave Stiles a confused glance. “Cutting Scott in half? Wouldn’t they just shoot him?”

Stiles banged his head backwards on the headrest. “No. That’s not how they do it. Werewolves can heal from most gunshot wounds. If they really want him dead, they’ll string him up and cut him in half. With a broadsword.”

Pushing the pedal down harder, the Sheriff picked up his radio. “Parrish send three cars of reinforcements to Hillcrest Beacon Inn. Suspects are likely armed and dangerous.”

The road changed into dirt as they made the last turn. The hair on the back of the Sheriff’s neck stood on end as he took in the normally welcoming Bed & Breakfast. All the lights were out and the grounds were too still. No one was walking along the lawn or eating dinner on the patio. Picking up the radio again, he contacted the precinct. “How far out are those reinforcements?”

Dispatch crackled over the line, “They are 5 minutes from your position, Sheriff.”

“Tell them to come in quiet. We don’t need to start a shooting match before we ascertain if they are holding any guests hostage.”

“Roger that.”

The Sheriff pulled his SUV across the grass and used it to block the exit road. Pointing a finger in Stiles’ face, he addressed his son, “You do not take one step outside of this vehicle unless you are under direct threat of bodily harm. Do you understand me?”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, realizing the futility of arguing. Huffing, he slumped back into his seat and stared out the passenger’s side window.

Three police cruisers pulled up and filled in the lawn and the driveway’s entrance, effectively preventing anyone from leaving the hotel by road. The Sheriff stayed behind his SUV and directed four of the newly arrived deputies to guard the barricade. Signalling for Parrish to follow him, the two officers cautiously approached the front of the hotel.

In a low voice, Parrish whispered, “How many hunters are we expecting to meet inside? They aren’t big fans of me, either, you know?”

“Well, if the Calaveras are all present and accounted for, five. If they have company, no idea. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and there won’t be anyone guarding Scott.”

Parrish pursed his lips and flashed his boss an irritated look. “Seriously? When are we ever lucky?”

“Every day we don’t die from whatever else this town cooks up.”

Cautiously, the Sheriff opened the door to the lobby and peered in. Holding his flashlight steady on top of his gun, he scanned the room, then proceeded in. Parrish followed immediately afterwards. They heard a muffled grunt and trained their weapons on the desk. As they came around to the other side, they found the hotel registrar bound and gagged on the floor. The Sheriff holstered his pistol and placed a finger over his lips, signaling the clerk to remain quiet. He sliced the zip-tie cuffs off with his nice and carefully removed the gag from the man’s mouth.

Stilinski whispered, “How many were there?”

The clerk’s voice was ragged and he sucked in air through his mouth. “There were five. But about half an hour ago, three or four of them left.”

“Do you know what room they were staying in?”

“They were originally booked in rooms 241 and 243. I don’t know if they’re still in those, though.”

“Okay, we’ll start there. Can you walk? There’s a line of deputies out front that can help you.”

The clerk nodded and used the front desk to pull himself to his feet.

Parrish clicked his radio on and spoke as quietly as possible into it, alerting the deputies that a hostage was coming out that would potentially need medical treatment. The moment the clerk stepped out the front door, the Sheriff and deputy found the stairs and made their way towards room 241. Dim light leaked from under the door.

Keeping his voice down, the Sheriff spoke, hoping Scott was nearby and conscious. “If you can hear me, Scott, Parrish and I are outside. Anyway you could signal us if you have company?”

Scott had never been more happy to hear the Sheriff’s voice. He had tried not to engage Severo, being too drugged to break his bonds and defend himself. The pain from his bleeding hands had kept him conscious, but his healing never kicked in to flush whatever special wolfsbane concoction they had drugged him with. However, with help feet away, he was willing to take whatever punishment his uncle could dish out. “I can’t imagine the hatred you could have to want your sister’s son dead. She’ll never forgive you.”

Severo stood and took several steps to stand in front of Scott. “I don’t need her forgiveness. She’ll be safe from creatures like you. That’s all I care about.”

The door burst inward, frame shattering around the latch. “Hands up! Step away from Scott,” the Sheriff commanded. Parrish stepped slightly to the side, ensuring that Severo had a clear view of the gun pointed at him.

The Sheriff holstered his own weapon and pulled out his cuffs. “You are under arrest for the kidnapping and assault of a minor. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

“You know this is not over, sobrino.”

The Sheriff tightened the cuffs around Severo’s wrists and pushed him into a chair. “All units, the suspect is detained. Send up Donahue and Hawthorne to escort him to a vehicle. He has already been Mirandized and made further threats against the minor.”

Parrish kept his weapon focused on the restrained hunter. He knew they were trained to get out of all sorts of bindings. There was no way he was going to let this one out of his sight.

“Alright, kid. Let’s get you loose before Stiles decides to leave the car and come up here, anyway.” Grabbing the set of keys on the hotel table, the Sheriff made quick work of the chains tying Scott to the chair and floor.

Scott tried to stand, but wobbled the moment he was vertical. Groaning, he leaned into the Sheriff’s steady shoulder.

“Just hang tight. Once we have your uncle in a cruiser and one his way to the station, we’ll get you out of here.”

Deputies Donahue and Hawthorne paused at the door. “What the hell?”

The Sheriff waved them towards Severo. “Careful. He’s not exactly trustworthy.”

Parrish glanced once more at the Sheriff and Scott. Seeing that they were managing, he followed the other deputies out, weapon still drawn, ready just in case Severo decided to make a break for it.

Wrapping an arm around Scott, the Sheriff tugged him over to the bed and sat down on the edge next him. “How are you really doing?”

Scott sighed, “I don’t know. Whatever was in that tranquilizer was rough. It’s still not out of my system and I’ve been digging holes into my palms since I woke up.”

The Sheriff examined the sluggishly bleeding wounds on one of Scott’s hands. “Shit. Okay. I would say we should drop by Deaton’s, but he’s currently in the hospital for a concussion. And your mom’s house is a no go.”

Scott forced a smile onto his face. “It’s okay. A few hours of rest and I’ll be as good as new. Benefits of being an Alpha.”

* * *

Stiles was officially done. No one hurt his friends and got away with it. All the planning and legal work in the world wouldn’t stop these assholes from targeting his best friend. It was time to up the ante. Picking up his phone, he hastily scrolled down his contact list and pressed DontAsk.

On the third ring, the person picked up, “Yes?”

“Mr. Noshimuri? I need a favor.”

“I’m fairly certain our debts were cleared with the money I loaned you for your trip to Mexico, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Yeah. And then I gave it back to you.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a door shutting. “What do you need?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it. I need someone to tip off the Federales of a mass burial site where all the bodies are suspiciously cut in half.”  
  
“And why can’t you do this for yourself?”

“Because there is no mass burial site. There’s a bunch. And none of them are on land owned by the Calaveras.”

The man snorted. “I see. So, a quick redistribution of some bodies and a phone call from a very frightened and innocent passerby.”

Stiles bit down on his thumb nail and made quick work of tearing off the top of it before spitting it out. “Exactly.”

“But from what I hear, the Calaveras are currently vacationing in the US.”

“I’ll be taking care of that part. All I need is for the Mexican government to want them for murder and extradition. I can handle the law on this side of the border just fine.”

“I’m sure you can, young fox. After the situation is resolved, our debt is clear. Feel free to hang on to my phone number, we might need each other’s services again at some point in the future.”

The line went dead and Stiles shoved the phone back into his pocket. He glanced up at the CCTV camera that his dad hadn’t unmounted, yet. He was thankful that Scott was sleeping on the couch downstairs with his dad standing guard. The Sheriff had no intention of giving him the opportunity to sneak out, again. Cautiously, he snuck down the stairs, through the kitchen and out to the garage. Grabbing the drill and wire cutters, Stiles made his way back to his room and dragged his chair over to the camera. He made quick work of the mounting bracket and quickly snipped the wires going into it.

“Do I even want to know?”

Stiles flailed and nearly fell off the chair. “Dad! Um. Probably not.”

“Let’s try that again. Why are you taking down the camera at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“I need it to convince the Calaveras that they are being video taped when they try to kidnap Scott again.”

The Sheriff crossed his arms over his chest. “And you have some sixth sense when and where this is going to happen?”

Stiles fiddled with the wire cutters and finished snipping the last wire as he spoke, “Sure. Tomorrow at 9pm in the distillery.”

“Right. And how do you know this?”

“Because they are going to intercept a message between Scott and his mom telling him where they are meeting.”

Rubbing his hands roughly across his face, the Sheriff groaned. “Does Melissa even know about this yet?”

“No. But, I’m going to call her and slip her the message when she gets off shift. I’ll just need you and Agent Douchebag to show up right after the Calaveras to arrest them.”

“Stiles, we’ve been over this. We have nothing on them to arrest them with. There was only one hunter at the hotel and he isn’t talking. There’s absolutely nothing that’s going to stick.”

Stiles clambered down and tossed the camera on his bed. “Not yet. But, the Yakuza is on top of that as we speak. In a few short hours, the Policía Federal will be discovering a mass grave of truly gruesome murders and issuing a warrant for the arrest of the majority of the Calaveras family. I’m sure when they are caught in the act of attempting to abduct the kid of one of their own, the FBI will be happy to arrange for extradition and assist in ensuring they never see the light of day again.”

The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel his blood pressure and anxiety rising. Stiles kept after him on eating a healthy diet, but he consistently counteracted whatever good that did with his scheming. Giving up on trying to talk Stiles down, the Sheriff asked, “What time do you need reinforcements? And don’t think that I won’t be following at a distance to make sure you two aren’t in over your heads.”

Stiles fumbled with the wire cutters before letting them drop on to the bed next to the camera. “Probably 9:05. I figure the Calaveras will wait to make sure that Scott’s there, but they won’t want Mrs. McCall to be caught in the crossfire if they can avoid it. As long as they see the Jeep and there’s no sign of her Dodge, I doubt they’ll hold off.”

“Just ... be careful. And make sure these assholes don’t pick you up when you deliver the note to Melissa at the hospital.”

“Yeah, Dad, of course.”

The Sheriff pursed his lips and stared at his son for a long moment. In one swift movement, he stepped in front of Stiles and pulled him into a strong hug. “I’m so proud of you for protecting your friend, Stiles. Drives me nuts. But, I’m proud of you.”

* * *

Scott and Stiles piled out of the Jeep. Stiles grabbed his bag of tricks from the back seat and followed Scott into the old distillery. Scott toed at the broken mountain ash circle that was the only remnant of his battle with Jennifer Blake.

“Alright. We’ve gotta mount this somewhere plainly visible, but it needs to be believable that it’s hooked up,” Stiles instructed as he dropped the bag with a loud clang on the cement floor.

Scott wandered behind the large vats and pulled tarps off of the old equipment, until he found a wooden ladder leaning against the wall, held in position by dry-rotted bungee cords. Carrying the ladder back, he paused, trying not to laugh as Stiles attempted to climb the rickety shelving with the camera in one hand.

“Dude! Use a ladder!”

Stiles huffed. “Well, I _would_ if I had thought to _bring_ one!”

Scott opened the ladder next to the shelves and pushed the metal securing brackets down. “Good thing I found one, then.”

Stiles reached out and nearly toppled the ladder as he switched his balance from the shelves to the wooden rungs. “Okay. I need the battery pack too.”

Scott dug through the bag and pulled out a red bulb attached by two wires to an adapter and a 9 volt battery. “What exactly is this plan?”

“We need your psychotic family to think they are caught on candid camera. Hopefully, your slightly less psychotic, but still asshole-ish father shows up and arrests them seemingly in the process of attempting to kidnap you. Again.”

Scott handed the battery up to Stiles. “And we need the camera, why?”

Stiles set the camera and battery down on top of the shelf and waved his hand, blindly behind him, “Drill.” The screws dug into the wall with a metallic whine. Carefully, he mounted the red light on the base of the camera and plugged in the battery. “Because, we don’t want them to just kill the both of us when they arrive. If they think they are being filmed, it might buy us a couple of minutes before the cavalry arrives.”

Scott held the ladder steady as Stiles climbed down. “I don’t know whether to be comforted or disturbed by how much thought you put into deceiving people.”

“Still manage to save your very fine ass.”

Chuckling, Scott folded the ladder and leaned it against the wall. They didn’t have long to wait before tires crunched on the gravel outside. Instinctively, Scott pushed Stiles behind him.

Araya waltzed in, oozing confidence, her four other grandsons behind her. They carried a vast array of weapons, all calmly held as if they weren’t walking in to a warehouse holding an alpha werewolf.

“Hello, Scott.”

Scott straightened his shoulders and demanded to know, “What did you do with my mom?”

“She’s safe at home, lobito. A little tied up at the moment, but safe.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she appeared every inch the disappointed matriarch. “You know this is what’s best for her. An alpha werewolf living under the same room as a human? She’ll never be safe. Not from anything or anyone. And you are the biggest risk of all. One day, you won’t be so lucky. You’ll lose control and the first person to fall will be your own mother. I can’t have that. Even if she hates me for the rest of her life.”

Stiles growled low in his throat at Araya’s casual demeaning of Scott’s character. Stepping to the side, he pulled the hunters’ focus away from Scott. “You really think Scott is the dangerous one in Beacon Hills? Yeah, he’s a True Alpha. But, he’s moral. Extremely moral. Peter killed a bunch of people, but you can’t argue that they had it coming. Derek’s killed one. We had a kanima that went after the entire 2004 swim team. But, really, the most dangerous one here, the one that’s caused the most damage, is me.”

Stiles sneered at the hunters, eyes darkening as he pulled forward his memories of the Nogitsune.

“Do you know why the Nogitsune chose me? Hm? Nothing?” He glanced at the hunters assembled behind Araya, ensuring he held their attention.

“Because I was the one with the most potential. Allison and Scott had such strong moral compasses that they would have left it with nothing to work off of. I’m the one who doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as the ends justify the means. I’m the one that knows people, knows which buttons to push to get the reaction I’m looking for. While the Nogitsune was busy learning about Beacon Hills from me, I was busy learning a few things of my own.”

Stiles’ eyes drifted towards the ceiling, a small smirk edging its way onto his face. A blink and a head tilt were are that was needed to convey the message loud and clear, _you’re in my playground, now_.

“Melissa was born here. But you weren’t. You never got your citizenship. But, we don’t deport parents of American citizens. After Melissa got married, you scampered back to Mexico to continue hunting with the rest of your family. You don’t even have a Visa now. And yet, here you are, on American soil, carrying some very illegal weapons. I wonder what the government would have to say about that. I’m betting you didn’t come with just the weapons in your hands either. No. You brought an arsenal. That sounds an awful lot like weapons trafficking to me.”

“And how do you plan to prove it? You and Scott are here, trapped in an abandoned warehouse.”

Stiles’ upper lip twisted, expression snarled into something more feral than any werewolf could manage. “You weren’t paying attention. You’re on candid camera. And it’s not taping, it’s streaming directly to the Cloud. No matter what you do, what you destroy, it’s saved - permanently - to the internet. You will never get rid of the evidence. Even if you kill every last person in Beacon Hills.”

The hunters behind Araya scoffed.

“I’ll have every last one of you up on weapons charges. Do you know what arms trafficking is worth in the US? Let’s add on to that assault of two minors. And since one is your grandson, how about attempted kidnapping? You’re looking at about 15 years all told, maybe more depending on the judge. And considering that my father is the Sheriff and his father is an FBI agent, I’m sure they will be willing to make an example of you.” Stiles paused, a wicked grin stretched across his face. “Uh oh, kiddies. I think you should have left when you had the chance.”

Blue lights flashed, illuminating the distillery. Tires crunched on the dirt and gravel road. The flashing became more erratic as vehicles circled them. Stiles grinned wider as doors slammed and a bullhorn crackled to life.

“Araya Calavera, come out with your hands up! You are wanted for the abduction of a minor. The Mexican government has filed for extradition in connection to thirty-seven murder charges. You will turn yourselves in and be detained until the Policía Federal arrange for your transfer to Mexico.”

The hunters gripped their weapons and pointed them at Stiles and Scott. Araya clenched her fingers, imagining she had Stiles’ throat between her hands so that she could strangle the life from his smug face.

Stiles bounced on his toes, excitement coursing through him as his plan came to perfect fruition. “Forgot to mention _those_ charges. My bad.”

Scott pressed himself along Stiles’ side, ready to cover him if the hunters decided to go down guns blazing. “Stiles, can you try not to taunt the people with the guns?”

The bullhorn crackled to life again. “If you don’t come out with your hands up in 15 seconds, we will be forced to assume that you are a threat.” The sounds of shotguns being pumped and doors slamming, enforced the warning.

Araya sneered at Scott and Stiles. “You might feel like you have won something, tonight. But, eventually, we will settle this.”

The hunters followed their matriarch out of the distillery and dropped their weapons at the door before raising their hands above their heads.

Scott could hear the Sheriff and his father yelling at them to kneel and put the hands behind their backs. All of the tension that the past few days had brought, eased as he heard sets of handcuffs clicking around his grandmother’s and cousins’ wrists. He leaned into Stiles, the one solid presence in his life that he was sure he might not survive without.

 


End file.
